09

Susan decided that was enough for Jim to digest in one sitting. It was a lot and she knew he'd need time to process it, make it his own, turn it into his new reality. She was confident he would get there because she could see the desire and need in his eyes. Susan Helmand was also glad, now more than ever, that she had chosen to pursue this. Nothing could be clearer to her than the fact that Jim was made for this lifestyle and if she had not gotten him first, someone else would have seen it in him and he'd be serving another pussy instead of her own.

All the doubts and worries about what rules were being broken were gone in her mind and in his, for now at least. They had tonight and all of Sunday before they had to come back into contact with their real lives. Monday morning, work, class, friends, and acquaintances seemed far away right now. It was just here, just these hours, just this new relationship that preoccupied every thought in their minds. Both took this as one more sign that what they were doing was right – if not for everyone, if not for society – at least for them.

"Jim, enough talk for this morning. I'm going to lay out in the sun for a while. You're welcome to join me, have a nap, or explore my room again if you wish." She knew which one he would choose and wasn't disappointed.

"If it's really ok with you, I think I'd like to explore your room again. Is there anywhere I shouldn't look? Anything I am not allowed to open or see?"

"There are no secrets anymore. Enjoy yourself, love."

"Yes Mistress," he answered happily and went off to his task.

Susan thought for a moment about whether to remove the bikini or not. She usually preferred laying out nude for the all-over tan and for the feel of a breeze blowing across her nipples and between her legs. But for now, she decided it was better to keep the suit on, not for modesty's sake, but to create some tan lines in the new suit Jim had chosen for her. It was a way of letting him leave his mark on her body and she liked that idea. She would watch him over the next few weeks as the lines deepened. If they had the desired effect, she'd keep them. With the triangles arranged carefully over each nipple and her cunt, she laid back to enjoy the sun's caress.

In her room, with full permission and as much time as he needed, Jim didn't know quite where to start. He thought about it for a minute and decided to go somewhere new, the laundry hamper. The notion of sniffing panties had never been his thing, but he was adopting a lot that had never been his thing until today.

He pulled out the pair she'd been wearing this very morning at breakfast. The white thong was right on top of the hamper and he pulled it out to inspect. With some hesitation, he sniffed at the crotch, down low on the front triangle. Smelled like her pussy. What else would he have expected? He felt his cock start to stir and went on with the inspection. He ran the thin back, right where her asshole would have been, under his nose and breathed deep. He felt his cock get harder as the scent of his mother's ass filled his nose. It would have been unthinkable a couple of days ago, but now it seemed like the only natural reaction was to put that strip into his mouth and suck every bit of flavor he could find out of it.

Next he took the matching bra and pressed the inside of the cups against his face. He could smell the faint lingering scent of her soap and perfume. It was good, but it wasn't anywhere near as good as the smell of her ass.

Replacing the items in the hamper and moving on, he couldn't help wondering if she'd driven him right out of his fucking mind. She had somehow made the idea of being her slave, in a very literal sense, appealing. He actually wanted to serve her, and be denied by her, and be punished and humiliated by her. What had she done to make that happen? How had she gotten inside his head? It didn't make any sense to his logical side, but the rest of him had bought in completely. Maybe it was best to just go with it and sort out the intellectual components later, if at all. What difference did they make? It felt good and they were both happy. Accept it and move on, he thought.

And move on he did... to the closet. She'd mentioned a box with a strap-on in it and he wanted to have a look so he'd know just what he was getting into, or more precisely what was getting into him. It took very little digging. He looked just behind the sexy shoes he had polished for her. His mother was tidy and of course she would keep the spurned gifts from his father in one location.

She wasn't kidding. It was bigger than his, probably modeled after some pornstar. He didn't have a ruler with him but this thing had to be about nine inches long. It was thicker around than his too. There would never be a doubt about who had the big dick in this house, he was sure of that much. Damn. Could he even take that thing? He'd never had anything bigger than a girl's kinky finger in his ass before. "I guess I'll find out soon enough," he muttered under his breath. The harness it was in was a nice one. Dad wasn't cheap, he'd give him that much. The leather was thick and well-sewn. It wasn't the usual low-grade workmanship you'd expect from a porn shop. He'd probably had it custom made. Jim couldn't help wondering if his father had snuck around her clothing drawers and her closet much the same as he had yesterday, trying to figure out what size this should be. He chuckled at the thought and it occurred to him that there really was something special about his mother to have men wanting to throw themselves, not at her cunt... but at her feet.

He slid the dildo between his lips, thinking he might as well see how difficult this was going to be. It went in, but nowhere near all the way. He could barely make it to the back of his throat, the damn thing was so fat. She might not be happy with that, but if she wasn't she'd probably just push harder. He put it back in the box, hoping not to see it again for quite a while.

Next he pulled out the contents of the bedside table with the porn and toys, all of it, and put it on the bed laid out so he could take a good look. He stretched out on her bed beside it, fondled each of the toys, and when satisfied with that, he started going through her porn page by page.

The pictures showed, as he remembered, a clear interest in older women with younger men. She had apparently become aware of the "cougar" idea that was taking hold in pop culture and found it appealing. Some of these, maybe half, were of the CFNM genre. Clothed Female, Nude Male was something he found interesting. Perhaps it was an exhibitionist streak in him or perhaps it was the clear dominance of the clothed woman contrasted with the vulnerability of the nude male. In any event, he liked imagining himself in the positions he saw depicted, particularly those involving more than one woman. He imagined himself humbled and naked in front of a room of women having tea and conversation, bringing them their cups and saucers, obeying their commands and felt his cock stiffen.

Then he turned to the books. There were a few that were just romance type porn and a few more that verged into BDSM. Obviously something along these lines had been in her consciousness for quite a while, but he doubted that it had involved him. Probably it was no more than fantasy material for masturbation and she probably had thought that was all it would ever be, but here he was, making it real.

He laid on her bed, inhaling the scent of her pillow and began to stroke his dick, not to cum, but just to enjoy the feeling of desire and pent up sexual tension. Soon enough she would allow him to release, he trusted that, and it was enough for now to do what he was doing.

Jim looked at the clock on her bedside table and realized he'd been in her room for two hours and just at that moment, the door opened and she walked in.

"Time to get started, pet. Did you happen to find the paddle that's tucked under my mattress?"

"No, Ma'am. I never thought about looking under your mattress for anything," he said.

She explained, "It's another of your father's gifts to me. I slipped grabbed it once when I heard a strange noise in the house at night and after that, I thought it was comforting to have it handy just in case I needed to whack a prowler in the head. It's not really much of a weapon, but it's something. Get it out now."

Feeling around under her side of the mattress, he found it easily and pulled it free. It was a plain piece of wood with cutouts at one end to form a handle. He guessed it was about two feet long and given its weight, it would pack quite a wallop. She stretched out her hand and he gave it over.

"I told you that you would learn to fear me. There's no time like the present. Lay over the end of my bed, ass up, and I will teach you why it's best not to disobey or piss me off," she said in a calm even voice. There was no anger, no fierceness. Her tone sounded matter-of-fact and business-as-usual.

She continued, "Because this is an example of what punishment will be like, there will be no warm-up with my hand, no gradual building to work up to the full strokes, and no pleasure at all – for you. To be quite honest, I'm pretty sure I will enjoy it. I'll let you know afterward."

"Crack!" Jim couldn't be sure if he heard it first or felt it first. Either way the sensations that shot to his brain were nothing like he'd ever felt in his life. He'd been punished as a child, by a reluctant parent who hated the duty but did it for his own good. But it had been nothing like this. He screamed in pain and confusion and when his mind cleared just a little, he wondered how many more there would be.

She smiled and knew exactly what he was wondering and was pleased he knew better than to ask. She wouldn't have told him anyway since counting down to a number would give him comfort. She laid the wood to him again, at least as hard as the first time, and saw his ass glow red. If she kept this up, there would probably be some bruising, but that was ok. She had in mind a plan, not a specific number, more of a purpose and she would reach her objective.

He saw stars, colors, and heard the relentless whack of her paddle. He wasn't sure how many times she had hit him; he had lost count after the third or fourth time. He wasn't sure he could take much more and he felt tears streaming down his face. He was crying. Jim Helmand was crying for the first time in decades. "Please Mistress, I beg you, no more. I beg you," he managed to stutter out between tears, breaths, and jolts of intense pain.

Susan smiled again, knowing she had put him where he needed to be, but she didn't stop. She calculated that another four swings of the paddle would be necessary to make sure he didn't think that his pleas for mercy had melted her heart. One by one she gave them, pausing just a little longer between strokes to give him the hope that he'd just suffered the last of them, only to snatch away the hope by landing another squarely on his bruised flesh.

Jim's experience of the last four blows was quite different than the satisfaction felt by his mother. He had, before each of the first two, he begged for mercy. Before the third he remembered her warning never to try to push her, and remained silent. Before the fall of the fourth, he had resigned himself that this would end when she decided and not before. And when the fifth strike did not come, he fell in love with her all over again.

His ass was burning and he wondered if it would ever be the same again, but that was quickly forgotten when a new pain seared through him. She raked her long red nails down his back, both hands at the same time, and spoke, "Do you understand what punishment is now?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he said in a hoarse whisper.

"I will do some things that humiliate you and hurt you and we will both love them. Punishment is a little different, as you just found out. Make no mistake, I did not mind it. It felt nothing like punishing you when you were a child. That, I hated. This, not so much," she smiled at him. "Even so, if I am punishing you more than once a month, something is wrong. I would not expect you to need this level of correction even that often. See that you don't; I can swing the board harder than I did today.

As she said these things, she had come around to sit on the side of the bed and was caressing his face and back, the tenderness a startling contrast to the past few minutes. Her purpose had been fulfilled. He still loved her as much – maybe more – than before, but he also feared her and would never willingly put himself in a position to need punishment.

Stripping off the tiny bikini, she stretched out, face down, on the bed next to him. "Worship me," she said.

Almost by instinct he got her meaning and moved himself between her legs. His hands spread her cheeks and he found her most private entrance with his lips and tongue. Her ass tasted of sweat and its musky scent filled his nostrils. He could feel himself falling deeper under her spell with each pass. She had given him the right to decide when to move to her pussy and he knew he could switch at any time, but he chose to stay where he was for now. The emotion he felt at the thought that he was now her slave, so far beneath her that he counted it a blessing to lick her asshole, was overwhelming and he had not had anywhere near enough of it.

She understood what he was doing, had an idea of what he was feeling, and allowed him to continue there for as long as he wished, while she drifted in and out of conscious thought and a dreamlike state. Both were pure pleasure.

Part 8

He had risen a couple of hours earlier and left her sleeping in her bed. Dinner, composed of various leftovers, warmed and combined to make new dishes, was almost ready. About to open the door to her room to wake her, he heard movement inside and decided to step quietly back down the hall to the kitchen.

Probably she was dressing in something sexy for dinner, he thought. The hardness in his cock almost never subsided now and he started laughing to himself about the "If you've had an erection for more than 4 hours..." warnings about Viagra. No Viagra was necessary around here. That much was for sure.

She came down the hall, clicking with each step. He had guessed right about her dressing in something sexy, but other than that nothing was as he expected. She was wearing the leather corset he had seen and polished when he first intruded into her privacy yesterday. It looked as though it had been made for her, and it had. She had once, only once, considered taking her ex-husband on as her slave. He begged her to allow him to measure her and order a custom corset to her specific dimensions. After climbing all over her with his tape measure for about 20 minutes, he came away with the dozen different measurements required and a couple of months later, this beautiful thing arrived on her doorstep. Unfortunately in the period between the measuring and the delivery she had decided she simply would not waste her time with him as a slave. He'd end up annoying her and little more, so the corset gathered dust until yesterday and was left unworn until today. Jim was the first person to see her in it.

The heels she wore were much like some women wore to work. They were high, black, and sharp toed. The difference was that the heel was maybe an inch higher and under the ball of her foot was a platform of corresponding height. They weren't stripper shoes or porn shoes. She could wear them to the office IF she wanted to look work-sexy. She decided tonight as she put them on that she would start doing exactly that.

Black thigh-high stockings completed the ensemble, held firmly in place by garters attached to the lower edge of the corset.

She looked like every man's over-the-top fantasy dominatrix and he loved it. The only things missing were a whip and a strap-on and he was thankful that they were missing. Her tits filled the cups of the corset beautifully and the tops of them jiggled as she moved. He loved that about big tits. They made him think of the most desirable servings of Jello in the world.

She drank in his appreciation, feeling swell her ego and wet her cunt, before finally speaking, "Nicely done with dinner pet, but it's not quite time to eat. Come with me." She turned and went back down the hall to her room where he saw the strap-on laying in the middle of her bed. She stood at the foot of the bed, said "Put it on me," and waited.

The straps and buckles were self-explanatory and it took only a minute or two before she stood before him with a nine inch black rubber cock. He had to admit, the black rubber went well with what she was wearing, but he still wished it were safely back in its box.

"Take your position. You may use the bed to lean against. And do try to relax. I'm going to take this slow so as not to hurt you. This is necessary to keep your mind where it should be. It's going to happen at least once a week from now on. You will learn to enjoy it and you might as well start today," she said in a smooth authoritative tone.

"Yes Ma'am, he said, bending over and placing his hands on the bed.

He heard her open the bedside table drawer, the one with the toys in it. In his mind he felt some relief that she was getting the lube he had seen in there. Of course she's going to use lube, she said I was to enjoy it, he thought. Since this was to become a routine part of his life in the future, he set his mind to do as she had suggested. He relaxed his muscles as best he could and focused his mind on the sensation as she rubbed lube into him and slid first one finger, and then two inside. She had a gentle touch, much in contrast with the earlier punishing hand and he did find himself enjoying the experience on several different levels. He was turned on by being touched somewhere that only a couple of the women he'd dated were ever interested in touching, and their efforts had been very tentative and brief compared to this. He also liked the feeling of having no choice. No choice meant no responsibility and no guilt for the enjoyment of it. And yes, the fact that she was his mother, flying in the face of societal expectations, did it for him too. He hadn't fantasized about her as an adolescent or a young man; it wasn't like that, so he didn't get the thrill of a long held fantasy finally fulfilled, but he did enjoy doing something that was so "wrong."

The pressure against his opening was gentle but insistent and as she pushed the head of the dildo, he made a conscious effort to relax, to want it – her – inside him. She really was good at this. As she said, she enjoyed being on the receiving end, so she knew how it felt and had a good sense of when to press forward and when to pull back.

She was in no hurry and there was no need to hurry. They were both enjoying the process and time was no issue. Eventually she had worked the entire cock into him and started a slow in and out motion. She was impressed with his control and his willingness. He was able to relax, able to give himself freely, able to submit to her completely, and it was everything she had hoped it would be.

Feeling her cock deep in his ass, fucking him in and out, realizing he'd just become her bitch, drove him deeper into his submissiveness. It wasn't the painful shocking experience that punishment had been, but it was even more elemental on an emotional level. He felt owned and he liked it.

"Pet, time for you to lay on your back," she said as she pulled the cock out of his ass and walked to the bathroom.

He obediently flipped over with his ass at the edge of the bed, legs up in the air.

"No," she said, returning with a towel which she laid flat on the bed, "Lay on this, fully on the bed, and get comfortable."